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I wake up at 10 AM, which is quite late for most people. One of the benefits of an early retirement is that I can sleep whenever I want and still get my daily 8 hours. It’s good for your skin, good for longevity. I don’t want to live forever, but I do want to live a very long time. It is for the same reason that, after lingering on my soft, fluffy mattress for a little while, I get up, brush my teeth, and walk to the kitchen to have a full, hearty breakfast. Most days I just eat some overnight oats. They’re a little bland, but healthy, and easy to make. Full of fiber. I know I’m rich, but I can’t afford my own personal chef. Plus, I wouldn’t want anyone else hanging around the house anyway. Lately, I’ve been fermenting my own yogurt to add to it. It really does make a difference taste-wise, and the live yeast promotes good gut health.
After taking a few minutes to let the meal settle in my stomach, I go to the bedroom and change to some comfy gym clothes. I’ve always been hesitant to wear the skin-tight, spandex stuff. Too revealing, too girly, too much, but after begrudgingly trying it once, I’ll admit I prefer it. I love the feeling of my body being gently compressed by the material, plus it’s very flexible and easy to move around in. It’s not like I have to worry about being leered at, anyway. There’s no one around but me inside my cozy little home gym. It doesn’t have as many custom machines as the big, commercial gyms, but you’d be surprised at how far you can go with just a few bars and weights. I work up a sweat for a couple hours, down a protein shake, take a good, long shower, and when I’m done, it’s time for lunch. Steamed salmon with brown rice. I want to live a very long time.
Afternoons are for leisure. I play video-games, watch TV. I’ve been learning to play the guitar lately, too. While I have a few friends at the guild, I prefer to do things on my own. I do keep contact with them online, though. Speaking of which, “LanguisHer” (a cringy username, but they don’t let you use your real names at the guild, for safety reasons) sent me a couple of videos yesterday. I gotta get around to watching those.
Agh, thinking about the guild makes me wanna see her, now. I usually only do it at night, but it’s close enough. Plus, it’s not like she knows what time it is.
…yeah, I’ll pay her a visit. It’s been a week, anyway.
Right next to my bedroom, is a stairway to the basement. This, although a little odd, was included in the floor plans. It was a perfectly normal basement, and quite spacious, the kind one would store old books and pickle jars in. I did think of building my home gym here, but the dark and dingy atmosphere would’ve been much too miserable. After moving a few boxes around, I find what I’m looking for: a hidden, yet ever-so-slightly conspicuous indentation on the otherwise smooth, pristine floor. Using a screwdriver, I pry it away to reveal a sturdy metal hatch, with a sleek number pad on the center-right. A little theatrical, but it got the job done. After typing my password (which, for the record, is annoyingly long, which is part of the reason why I only visit when I’m in the mood), the hatch opens automatically, revealing a long flight of stairs. This was not in the floor plans. It was not easy to do it myself.
After a while of walking down, I finally reach the bottom. Here, another sturdy metal door, another keypad with an annoying password. At this point, my heart burns with anticipation. A bit of typing later, and it opens to reveal an empty-seeming room. Concrete walls all around. Except, in the furthest wall from the door. Right at the center. A safe. Too small to be called a vault. No keypads this time, only a giant handle wheel. Again, very theatrical, but I’m a fan of theatrics. I spin, and I spin and I spin, and I crack the door open.
Immediately, a garbled scream. Loud enough to hurt my ears. How lovely.
The girl inside looks miserable. Her skin glistens with sweat, and strands of dry, messy hair stick to her face. I’m always stingy with her food, but I keep her constantly hydrated so that she’s able to sweat like this. Speaking of her hair, it’s grown tremendously long from her time spent in the safe. It now drapes over the floor, spilling every which way. I never cut it. She’ll never be able to cut it. I wonder how long it’ll eventually get. Her eyes, crusted with dry tears, look at me pleadingly. Her tiny pupils and wide stare betrays the hell she’s been through. I really gotta give LanguisHer props, that itching cream really did its job. She knows I’ll never give her any mercy, but to give up on that hope would be to give up on everything. She’s not ready to do that, not yet. That’s what makes her fun.
The safe itself is a thing of beauty. Even after one opens the door, the girl remains confined by thick metal bars. Those are welded in. They’ve never come off, not since they were first installed. They have enough space for my arms to fit through, but not much else. The box is barely big enough to hold her. She can only fit there sitting down, her legs painfully bent, her breasts crushed between her torso and thighs, her arms behind her back. Not that it’s necessary, but I’ve also used a series of belts and chains to force her into that position before shoving her in there. It still took a bit of pushing to get her to fit. This position would probably be a little more bearable if not for the sharp spikes lining the walls, floor and ceiling of the vault, but I’m nothing if not thorough. The only free space she has is up above, where her head rests. I wanted her to be able to crane her neck around, to see every inch of her confinement, and to look me directly in the eye when I open up that door. For the same reason, I kept a bright light inside the safe that remained on at all times. Not only does it let her see everything, it also makes it quite difficult to sleep, if the randomized shocks weren’t doing that job already.
Her name was… well, I did consider making her forget her old name, but I think it’s more painful for her to remember. Her name was Jessica Lovelace. She was 20 when her life ended. She’s 30 now. Not that she knows it. I never tell her what day it is. She was a college student. Quite shy, but had a tight circle of friends. A family who loved her. She wanted to be a computer scientist, and she was quite adept at it. She was walking home one day, in the middle of the night. She used to be very afraid of doing that, but she ignored her fears that night. That was it for her. One wrong turn on a deserted alleyway, and that was the last time she ever felt fresh air.
I used to love showing her news footage about the police search. Desperate Facebook posts from her aggrieved family members. Before she was in the safe, she was chained to the mattress in the regular basement, and I used to bring a TV down and play that footage at max volume whenever I went away. Of course, the search eventually dwindled, and her friends and family began to accept that they’d never see her again. Less material for psychological torture on my end, but great for peace of mind.
Three years after her capture, once the police investigation was truly dead, I joined the Kidnapper’s Guild. They’re an extremely secretive organization that exclusively recruits those who have kidnapped and confined at least one girl for long-term, non-commercial purposes. What a blessing that was. Meeting up with fellow captors was an incredibly liberating experience, and helped me get rid of any lingering guilt I felt over what I was doing. I met some incredibly smart and dedicated people there. In particular, an engineer and doctor couple who had spent decades researching long-term, extreme confinement solutions, trying to account for every possible issue: feeding, drinking, muscle atrophy, even nail growth. I was deeply fascinated, and after gathering enough money to pay for all the construction and medical procedures (the Guild has a strict no-working-for-profit rule, but I needed to at least compensate for the cost of the materials), the safe was ready to house her. That was five years ago.
While Jessica wasn’t immortal, unfortunately (at least not yet), the accommodations arranged by the couple had made sure she’d remain alive for a very long time. In particular, I loved the IV tubes they’d implanted on her for food and water delivery. Looked very inconspicuous, and it allowed me to perfectly regulate her diet while still making sure she’d never taste anything again. I liked to keep her very emaciated, and the wide array of medicines and supplements provided by the couple made sure she’d be able to live healthily on that alone.
What a beautiful thing. I technically don’t have to visit her ever, she’ll live her entire natural lifespan like this, but I still enjoyed giving her regular visits to look at her and talk, and maybe inflict some novel tortures upon her. Talking keeps her sane. There’d be no point to this if she didn’t know who or where she was.
But right now, she was screaming. Very loudly. It may have been a week or so since my last visit, and the itching cream was still running strong. I waited for her to settle down a little, and began speaking.
“So, how’s it going?”
“Fuck!!! Agh! It’s uh… fuck, this uh, look I can’t take this, please, please do something about this!” she was barely coherent, garbling all her words, but after so long talking to her, I could make out what she said precisely. I never gagged her. I liked hearing her speak.
“What is it now, honey?” I asked, barely containing my excitement.
“The fucking, the cream the fucking thing you rubbed on me, it’s itching so bad, it’s been like this for months, please please I can barely think it’s been so long please!!!!” Cute, she thinks it’s been months. By the way, she never used to swear before I kidnapped her. How things change…
“Please, what? What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t fucking know just put something else on me some antidote I can’t take it please!” Her speech became more and more desperate, more and more garbled. She’s not used to speaking regularly anymore. A harsher captor would’ve punished her for asking for relief, but me? For me, the begging’s the best part!
“You know I can’t do that. This is experimental stuff, there’s no way to counteract it. Plus, I enjoy seeing you like this. You’ll just have to wait for it to run its course in…” about two more months, “well, we don’t need to think about that now, do we?” I want to keep her in suspense.
“W-w-what do you mean this thing runs its course it’s been so long it can’t stay like this…” while clearly dismayed, I think the itching is strong enough that she can’t quite stew in the dread for too long. I did rub that thing all over her body. Maybe that was a mistake, but I only get so many opportunities to run my hands through her. She used to have such beautiful, smooth, rosy skin. It’s all pale and sticky now, even prettier. But I can’t touch her too much. Too much physical contact might make her feel loved, grow attached to me. I don’t want that. I want her to be afraid. Plus, my affection for her is much purer, less lascivious. I’m more interested in her pained facial expressions than the rest of her body, though I still keep her nude at all times so she doesn’t feel too human.
“Oh yeah, speaking of which! Remember Anna? The chemistry major?” I decide now’s a good time for some mental torment.
“Y-yes…” she used to lie when I did this. I punished her harshly for it. She doesn’t lie anymore.
“Yes you do. Why don’t you tell me a little about her, if you remember her so well?”
“A-again??? I don’t wanna do it again don’t make me do it again…” she pleads desperately.
“Tell me about her. Now. Or I’m closing the door for a year.”
“Sorry sorry don’t do that I’ll talk! Ok, ok, she…”
“Say her name.”
“Yes, A-Anna… fuck I can’t think the itch… Anna had auburn hair… to her shoulders and it was straight… and she smiled a lot even though I was so… she smiled so much and laughed a lot and she had these blue eyes… and…” she begins to sob now, “and she was so kind to me, and we went to the movies a lot, she loved movies, so much that I started to love them too, and I talked about them with her and her eyes would shine bright, so bright…” she breaks down. Tears begin to pool in her eyes again. That’s enough for me.
“That’s the Anna I remember. I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear, then, that she just got married!” the girl, who’d been looking down in reminiscence, suddenly turns her neck to look me in the eye again. “Oh, and get this, it was to another woman! Turns out she was into girls after all. Aren’t you glad to hear that?”
“S-she.. she was…” the news must’ve come as a shock to her, because her eyes lose focus for a moment.
“Oh yeah, the night you lost your life, hadn’t you just confessed to her? You gathered up your courage, went up to her, and just said it out loud. Her stunned face made you so scared, you ran away right then and there. I guess that’s one reason to be wandering around the street in the middle of the night. I’m sure you’re glad your friend is finally happy. She’s even forgotten to do her annual post mourning you, last year!” I twist the knife. “For such a happy occasion, and because it’s been a while since the last time we did this, how about I listen to a request of yours?”
“A… a req-quest a…” she was still a little too stunned for speech.
This was a little tradition of mine. Every few months, though not on any regular schedule, I’d listen to a request from her. Anything. It’d be up to me whether I’d grant it or not, but I gave her the freedom to ask. These were the only times she’d ever have the chance of gaining any mercy from me. The first time I did this, she’d asked to be let go. I denied that. The second time, she’d asked for her manacles to come off. I’d denied that, too. The third time, I think that was four years into her confinement, she’d asked for a warm blanket. I gave her that. For a week. The fifth time was her last day before she went into the safe, and she’d asked for a hearty, home-cooked meal. I made some chicken parm, oversalted it so it’d be unpleasant to eat, and then put it in a dog bowl. She still lapped it up. Good times. Her last three requests were for me to turn off the safe’s lights, which I granted for 24 hours each time. Maybe that made her cocky, because these were the next words to come out of her mouth:
“...kill me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Please kill me!! I’ve been here so long so so long I keep trying to die but I can’t do it I can’t move I can’t think! I can’t stand being here everything hurts so much and it never stopped hurting I can’t take it it’s so much, it’s everything, I feel too alive and I feel everything, I haven’t slept in so long and I’m so so tired… and I don’t wanna think but I keep thinking and thinking and it hurts… I tried doing it myself I tried hitting my head on the wall but the wall at the back right where my head hits I think it’s cushioned… I don’t wanna do this anymore, I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna, please…”
I let her continue to whine and moan and sob for a few more minutes before responding.
“Wrong answer. See you in a year.” I try to keep my voice cold, but I can barely contain my excitement. I begin to close the safe door.
“W-what… NO, NO NO PLEASE I’M SORRY PLEAASE, PLEASE I’M SORRY I WON’T SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE DON’T NO PLEA-” her screams are cut off by the door closing. The soundproofing on this thing is amazing.
God, what have I just committed to… a whole year! The longest she’s been left alone for is a couple months! It’ll be hard on me, yes, not seeing her in-person for so long, but it’s not too bad. I have a hidden camera and microphone inside the safe, so I can see and hear her whenever I want. I have a heater inside there that I can turn up and down. I have speakers inside that I can blast loud noise with. There’s still ways to play with her. But wow… a whole year, huh? Just the thought of it sends shivers down my spine… Maybe I should just keep her isolated permanently. Get a new girl to play with. Maybe Anna. I miss the early years of confinement, the excitement and novelty of it. I’ll have to leave the guild for a little while, until the police are off my trail, but it’ll be worth it. Yes, I have a plan for the future now…
But for the moment, I’m thinking about dinner. Grilled chicken breast with leafy greens. I want to live a very long time…